


Sparkle like Bowie in the morning sun.

by TheAsexualKingoftheUniverse



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Red Robin (Comics), Super Sons (Comics), Superboy (Comics)
Genre: Coming Out, Fluff, Gen, Good Brother Jason Todd, Good Brother Tim Drake, Mentions of Cancer, Nonbinary Character, Sibling Bonding, Trans Male Character, Trans Tim Drake, clark is there for like 0.5 seconds lmao, gay Jason, mentions of transphobia, no one actually has cancer, shopping with your siblings, teensy little flashes of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2019-10-11 01:19:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17437169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAsexualKingoftheUniverse/pseuds/TheAsexualKingoftheUniverse
Summary: What do you do when you and your siblings come out to each other unexpectedly?You go shopping.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm non binary and felt like writing fluffy trans fic. 
> 
> That's it. That's the reason this exists. 
> 
> Title is from Vampire Money by MCR because I'm gay and Gerard Way is a non binary icon.

Tim was working on his computer in his room at the Manor when Damian kicked his door open.

  
“Drake, I require your- this room is a mess.”

  
“It’s not _that_ bad,” Tim muttered. It really was horrendous.

  
“There are clothes everywhere. You could pick them up and it would be a tremendous improvement.” Damian bent down and picked up what Tim, horrified, recognized as one of his binders. Damian scrunched up his nose.

  
“This tank top is much too short, Drake. You should dispose of it, lest you look like Grayson at a club.”

  
Tim cracked up.

  
“It’s not a tank top,” he wheezed, “It’s my binder.”

  
“Clearly you have not been to an office supply store, as I can assure you that this is _not_ what a binder looks like.”

“Not that kind of a binder, Damian. It’s for my chest. I’m a trans guy.”

“Then this binder is to…”

“Compress my tits, yeah.”

“I trust you do not wear it on patrol. Such compression could cause innumerable damages during combat.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m well aware. Only wore it out on patrol for a couple weeks before Bruce found out and blew a gasket. He helped me find some better alternatives that let me be comfortable and safe. Plus, he got me on hormones. Besides, the binder’s just until I can get top surgery.”

“To remove the…growths?” Tim laughed again.

“Yup.”

“Why have you not yet gotten it?” Tim shrugged.  
“Haven’t been able to find the time between work, school, and the mission. I might have when Jack made me quit Robin, but he wasn’t…supportive of my transition.” Damian nodded.

“I see. It is upsetting to learn that you have been denied a medical procedure. Worry not, Drake. I will correct this immediately.” And with that, Damian took off.

“Wait, Damian, what’re you doing?” Tim shouted, bolting after him. The kid made his way to the kitchen, where Bruce was getting himself some coffee.

“Father,” Damian shouted, “Drake requires immediate time off for the removal of unwanted growths.”

Bruce dropped his mug.

“Tim has cancer?” He whispered with alarm.

“What? No.”

“Top surgery, Bruce. He’s talking about top surgery,” Tim panted from behind Damian. Bruce relaxed.

“Oh, thank God. Of course, you can have the time off, Tim.”

“Excellent,” Damian said, “I took the liberty of filling out a leave of absence form to inform the JL and the Titans of Drake’s absence.” Tim froze.

“Okay, first of all, when the hell did you have the time to do that? Second of all, _please_ tell me that you used different wording.”

There was a loud crash and Kon flew into the kitchen.

“Tim, you have cancer?” He shrieked.

“I did not,” Damian said. Tim face-palmed.

“I don’t have cancer, Kon. Damian was talking about my top surgery.”

“Hell yeah! You can finally be Tit Free Tim,” Kon exclaimed, wrapping him in a hug.

“I don’t even have an appointment yet,” Tim muttered, hugging Kon back. Damian scoffed.

“Easily done,” he said dismissively, “I can handle it. The surgeon will, of course, be thoroughly investigated.”

“Thank you, Damian. I didn’t think you’d be this supportive,” Tim admitted. Damian frowned.

“I do not understand what you mean by supportive. Biological mistakes happen. They must be corrected. It is, unfortunately, not so simple for me.”

Bruce had, at this point, gotten himself a new cup of coffee and choked on his sip.

“Damian, please explain,” he said once he recovered.

“Ah, my apologies, Father. It seems I have neglected to inform you of my recent discovery. I am not always a boy, nor am I always a girl. In fact, most often I am neither and very rarely I am both. I have found they/them pronouns to be satisfactory and will not be changing my name. I like my name.”

“That’s great, kiddo,” Bruce replied seriously, “Thank you for trusting us with this.”

“What a foolish turn of phrase, Father. I am not trusting you with anything, I am merely informing you of a recent discovery.”

“Dames, if you want we can go shopping for less masculine clothes together tomorrow,” Tim offered. Kon was wrapped around his back, resting his chin on the shorter boy’s head.

“I find this offer acceptable,” they replied.

“And I can teach you about makeup if you’re interested in that,” Kon exclaimed.

“Also acceptable.”

“Nice, nice. Fist bump.” Kon extended a fist towards Damian, who tentatively bumped it with a fist of their own.

Bruce smiled at his children and his third son’s best friend (Boyfriend? Fuckbuddy? Platonic soulmate? Who the fuck even knew, honestly.).

“Will you be staying for dinner, Conner?” He asked.

“Can I?”

“Of course. Any friends of my kids are always welcome here.”

“Father, may I go shopping tomorrow?” Damian asked.

“Of course, kiddo-” Bruce pulled out his wallet and handed them one of his credit cards- “Have a good time.”

“Thank you, Father,” his youngest replied primly, “Now, Drake, I require your assistance in pranking Grayson. He has gotten too arrogant as of late. It is time to take him down a few pegs.”

“Fuck yeah,” Tim replied, “I have a whole notebook of plans for pranking that bottom.”

“Tim don’t call your brother a bottom,” Bruce said exasperatedly.

“I’ll stop calling Dick a bottom when he stops being one.”

“…You have a point, son.” Tim laughed and the trio exited the room. Bruce smiled into his coffee cup and moved to leave the kitchen.

He slipped in the coffee spill and crashed to the floor, landing on his back. The mug in his hand went flying and crashed into the wall, shattering instantly. He groaned as the shards of broken mug dug into his back. A wolf-whistle sounded from above him.

“Damn, old man,” Jason mused, “You’re getting clumsy in your old age. We should get you a life alert.”

“Hello, son. Good to see you,” Bruce said from the floor. The duo stared at each other for a minute before Jason took pity on him and helped him up.

“You need some help treating those wounds?” The boy offered.

“That’d be great, Jay-lad.”

* * *

 

Damian, Tim, and Kon were late to dinner. By thirty minutes.

And Dick’s hair was pink. But that was less concerning than his missing kids (and the boyfriend?).

Kon came rushing in the room.

“Sorry we’re late,” he blurted out, “Damian and Tim were being, like, _really_ picky.”

“About what?” Bruce asked. The Imperial March theme from Star Wars began playing.

“Conner…” He warned. The boy grinned back at him.

Tim marched dramatically into the room. He was wearing a jet-black tuxedo with a red cape wrapped around his shoulders.

“Announcing,” he proclaimed, “Damian Wayne.”

Damian glided into the room in a forest green ballgown that Bruce distantly recognized as having once been his mother’s.

“Father,” they greeted, taking their seat next to him, “My apologies for our tardiness.”

“No problem, Damian. You look very nice.”

“Thank you, Father. Drake and I selected this from the attic.”

“You stealin’ my hideout?” Jason teased.

“It was the only place with quote unquote female clothes that would fit them,” Tim responded.

“Them?” Dick asked, curious.

“I am genderfluid,” Damian announced, “You may refer to me using they/them pronouns. Resistance will result in violence.”

“Punch transphobes. Fight the man,” Tim whispered.

“Nice, kid. Lemme know if any little bitches give you trouble. I’ll go all Hood on their asses,” Jason said.

“I can take care of myself, Todd.”

“But beating up bigots is _fun_.”

“DAMI,” Dick wailed, fully sobbing, “I’m so proud of you!”

“Oh no,” Damian muttered, “Drake, he’s making this an ordeal.”

“He makes everything an ordeal,” Tim muttered, “he cried when I came out, too.”

“Dick-bitch didn’t cry when I came out,” Jason grumbled. Bruce dropped his fork.

“You’re gay?” He asked.

“Aww, shit,” Jason said, “Did I forget to come out?”

“Yes, you did!” Dick screeched. Jason winked at Damian and mouthed the words, “strategic coming out, I got you covered.” Damian ducked their head, smiling down at their polenta and mushroom gratin.

Cass reached across the table and put her hand on theirs.

“Happy for you,” she said with a bright smile.

“Thank you, Cassandra.”

“Yeah, congrats,” Duke added with a nod. Damian nodded back.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were gay!” Dick wailed.

“Dick, if ya don’t shut the fuck up I’m gonna shoot ya.”

“I’m so glad my children love and support each other,” Bruce said, laying on a little more Brucie than normal.

There was a loud crash and Clark flew into the room.

“We just got your message. Tim, how are you holding up?”

“For fuck’s sake,” Tim yelled, “I don’t _fucking_ have _cancer_. I have _tits_! Unwanted _tits_! Not _cancer_!”

“Oh,” Clark said awkwardly, “I’ll, uh, go calm the JL down. Bye!” He flew out the window again.

“When will you fucking supers start replacing the windows you break?” Bruce grumbled.

“You’re a billionaire, B, you can handle it.”

“Thank you, Jason.”

“You’re welcome.”

“No, I- I was being sarcastic.”

“I know.”

* * *

 

Tim woke up the next morning to Kon shaking him.

“Fuck off, babe,” he grumbled, batting at his boyfriend’s hands. Kon used his TTK to deflect him.

“Time to wake up, Tim. We’re taking Dami to the mall, remember?”

“Ugh,” Tim groaned. He rolled his legs over to the side of the bed and got up.

Damian met them down in the garage. They were dressed warmly, with a scarf wrapped around their neck and hiding the lower half of their face.

“Cold, Dames?” Tim teased as he unlocked the Lamborghini Urus. Damian climbed in the back and pouted.

“Turn the heat on, Drake, I’m from the desert.”

Tim laughed and cranked the heater.

“There’s a blanket hidden in the rear glove box if you need it,” he said. Damian yanked the blanket out and wrapped it around themself, scrunching down into a tiny ball of cozy vigilante. Kon stealthily took a picture.

“Where are we going?”

“The outdoor mall. They’ve got loads of clothing stores and a Sephora, so this way we just have to drive to one place,” Kon replied, “Hey, Tim, can I be DJ?”

“Do you promise to play _good_ music?” Tim asked.

“I’ll play the Tim-approved playlist,” Kon promised.

“Fine, I guess you can.” Kon grinned and started playing with the audio controls. A few seconds later, The Fame by Lady Gaga started playing through the speakers. Kon sang along to every song they played the entire ride there, dancing to them as well. Tim smiled at his boyfriend’s antics, one hand on the wheel and the other resting on Kon’s thigh. Damian dozed off halfway across the bridge to Gotham as Toxic blared through the speakers.

They awoke again as the car rolled to a stop and Kon was bemoaning the fact that he had to stop singing.

“Just a few minutes longer, Tim,” he whined.

“I said no, Kon. You awake, Dames?”

“Yes,” Damian grumbled, “But I do not want to go outside. My back gets too cold.”

“Your back?”

“Yes. Mother removed my spine and replaced it with a metal one. The replacement gets cold in the winters.” There was silence in the car.

“We’ll pick you up some warmer coats and an electric blanket,” Tim promised, “And we’ll talk to Bruce together about this. He might have some ideas.” Damian nodded.

“That would be tolerable,” they murmured. Kon shrugged off his leather jacket.

“Here, mini-bat. This might help a bit.” Damian hesitated.

“Won’t you be cold?”

“Nope. Kryptonian privilege.” Damian snatched away the jacket, pulling it on over their other coat.

“Everyone ready to go now?” Tim asked.

“Yup!” Kon exclaimed, opening the door and hopping out. Damian nodded and exited as well.

“What do you want to get first?” Tim asked them.

“Another dress. There is a gala next week. I would like to be prepared for it no matter how I identify that day.”

“Smart,” Tim remarked, “Alright, let’s hit up Neiman Marcus first and then go from there. Kon will carry everything.”

“What? Why?”

“You have super strength and you could do more than just stand there and look pretty every once in a while.” Kon squawked and pretended to fall over.

“I’m being attacked,” he caterwauled. Tim kicked him with a snort.

“Get up before you start attracting attention. We’re trying to keep Vulture Vale off our backs.” Kon clambered to his feet, rolled his shoulders, and they continued on.

Neiman Marcus was bustling with people. Tim and Kon pressed closer to Damian, flanking them.

“I do not need your protection,” Damian grumbled.

“Robin doesn’t,” Tim whispered, “Damian Wayne, a poor, innocent kid who can’t defend themself from attack, does.” There was a muffled giggle from behind them. Tim whipped around.

“ _Jason_?” He said incredulously as he caught sight of his older brother, who was trying to hide behind a mannequin.

“No,” said Jason.

“Do you think that is fooling anyone, Todd?” Jason stepped into the aisle.

“Fine, you win. I know I wasn’t invited, but I wanted to be here anyways, so I stole Dick’s bike and came.”

“You were all welcome to join. I did not exclude any of you.”

“Hell yeah,” Jason exclaimed, “Let’s get you a leather jacket, little D.” He started steering Damian towards the escalators.

“Why?”

“Leather jackets, along with combat boots and really cool hats, are one of the true gender-neutral indicators of bad-assery. Plus, leather jackets are very useful if you get in a motorcycle accident. I would know.”

“Would you, now?” Tim drawled. Jason squawked.

“Do you doubt me, little brother?”

“Yep. No one could pass Bruce’s driving tests and still crash their bike unless they were doing it on purpose, and you’re not _that_ stupid.”

“Rude.”

“I’m so glad my only sibling is a sweetheart,” Kon muttered.

“Don’t forget Match,” Tim said.

“Don’t remind me.”

* * *

 

After two hours spent going through Neiman Marcus, they checked out at one of the counters. They had a genuinely ostentatious number of clothes, but Damian seemed happy and Jason was fawning over them, so Tim let it slide.

“Alright, guess it’s time to head home,” Tim said. He was already exhausted. Jason started laughing.

“Oh, Timmy,” he replied, wiping tear from his eyes, “You didn’t think we were _done_ , did you? We still have to get accessories, shoes, and makeup. We’re going to be here for at least another four hours.”

“Why did I suggest this,” Tim groaned, “I hate shopping.”

“Too bad, so sad, we live to suffer,” Jason said, “Now c’mon, we’re headed to Coach.”

“We’ve already spent forty thousand dollars!”

“Bruce can afford it.”

“Lucius is going to _kill_ me! I’m supposed to rein in the spending, not _encourage_ it!”

“Shut up, Tim, no one cares.”

“You’re insufferable,” the boy grumbled, “Kon, comfort me.”

“There, there, it’ll be okay,” Kon said, awkwardly patting his boyfriend on the back.

The trip to Coach was mercifully short. Jason and Damian found a small, canteen-style cross body bag that they both got excited about and immediately bought. Damian immediately ripped it out of its packaging and put their wallet and a small knife inside it. While they were distracted doing that, Tim stealthily purchased a rose print wallet he had seen them eyeing.

“What’s that for?” Kon whispered.

“Birthday present,” he whispered back. Kon nodded.

“Where to now, Jason?” Tim called after shoving the wallet in his jacket pocket.

“Lunch, bitch. We’re going to Smashburger. Their barbeque sauce is fucking _killer_.”

“Takes one to know one,” Tim teased.

“Yeah, yeah, fuck you too.” Damian let out a noise no one had never heard from them before. The boys stared.

“Did you just… _giggle_?” Tim asked. Damian froze.

“No,” they said.

“No, I’m pretty sure you just giggled.”

“I would never make such an undignified noise, Drake.” Their face was the same color as Jason’s helmet.

“No, you definitely giggled,” Tim insisted, “That was, 100%, without a doubt, a giggle.”

“It was not.”

“Was to.”

“It. Was. Not.”

“Was to!”

“I was choking, not giggling!”

“Oh, yeah? Choking on what?”

“…Fine, Drake. You have won. I… _giggled_.”

“Thank you.”

“Now that you two have settled this _fascinating_ debate,” Jason drawled, “I want my goddamn Smashburger.”

“I hate you all,” Damian said.

“Love you too, brat wonder.”

* * *

 

They finally arrived home eight hours later, with the trunk and the backseat of the car filled with bags. Damian had managed to talk Tim into going to the pet store, so now the fucking _cat_ was getting a $30,000 bed.

“The cat bed is more expensive than my bed,” Tim had grumbled. Damian had resolutely ignored him.

Bruce was waiting for them when they got into the main entry hall.

“That’s…a lot of bags,” he said.

“Blame Jason,” Tim snapped.

“Hey, I was just spoiling the baby bat!”

“You spent two hundred and fifty thousand dollars!”

“Okay, in retrospect we went a bit overboard.”

“Oh, you think!”

“Silence, fools,” Damian ordered before hesitating, “Thank you. I had a…good time.” Tim relaxed, smiling at them.

“You’re welcome, kid. So did I.”

* * *

 

Vicki Vale was grinning like a maniac. The youngest Wayne was walking the red carpet in a dress. Her fingers itched in preparation to write the story. She could see it now, a new article on Bruce Wayne’s questionable parenting practices.

“Don’t even think about it, fuck face,” growled Jason Todd from behind her, “Or I can and will have Dad’s lawyer sue you six feet under.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” she hissed. He stalked forward until it strained her neck to look him in the eye.

“You really want to test me?”

She slunk off, knowing she’d lost.

“Nice going, Jason,” Tim said, “Glad to see you keep your promises.”

“But of course, Timmy. No one hurts our little sibling.”


	2. And you can't touch my brother.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An addition to the first chapter that wasn't originally planned.

“Hello, Tim,” Jason said, looming out of the shadows.

“Die,” Tim replied, not even bothering to look up from his screen.

“Already did that. So, I have a question.”

“Shoot.”

“I will,” Jason said, jokingly pulling out his gun.

Tim stared at him with an arched eyebrow.

“I thought we were past this part of our relationship, Jason,” he snarked.

“Oh, we are, I just thought it would be funny.”

“It was.”

“You could have laughed.”

“Then maybe you should be funnier.”

“I don’t see how I could have been more hilarious.”

“Because you’re an idiot, yeah, I know. Anyways, what’d you want to ask?”

“So, you’re a trans guy, right?”

“Yes. Where’s this going?”

“Well, I was reading your journal- which, my b, thought it was Dick’s and it was very compelling- and saw your concerns about passing. So, I would like to offer you a once-in-a-lifetime experience.”

“What is it?”

“Passing lessons from moi.”

Tim thought about it for five seconds.

“Eh, what’s it gonna hurt?” He said, “Let’s do it.”

“Hell yeah,” Jason said, raising his fist for a fist bump, “Alright, baby bro, let’s hit the motherfucking _town_. We’re gonna paint it red.”

* * *

 

“So, the important thing to note is that you need to take up more space,” Jason said on the subway platform, “Ya gotta man spread, Timmy.”

“Right,” Tim drawled, “Make room for my totally-existent dick.”

“Silence, Tim.”

“I feel like an asshole when I do it!”

“Exactly.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Men _are_ assholes.”

“I don’t _want_ to man spread.”

“You don’t have to spread your legs like Dick when he’s showing off his skills, Tim, just leave your legs open. Don’t curl up into a ball. Just…watch what I do when we get on the train, okay?”

“Fine,” Tim grumbled.

Their train pulled up a couple of minutes later, and Jason boarded and sat. His legs were spread but not so much that he took up inordinate space.

“Knees aligned with shoulders,” he whispered to Tim, who hesitated before imitating him.

“See? Manly,” Jason said.

Tim sighed.

* * *

 

They got off a few steps later and Jason led them through the winding streets of the nicer part of Gotham before halting.

“We’re going in here,” he announced, “Here’s yer fake.”

“What?”

“So you can order a drink.”

“It’s three in the afternoon!”

“So? This is confidence practice. Men are always over-confident”

“This is illegal, on several levels!”

“And making a fake uncle wasn’t? Listen, just go in, order two beers on tap, dealers choice. I’ll be there with you.”

“I hate you,” Tim muttered as he opened the door.

Jason patted him on the back.

Tim approached the bar, swallowing his nerves.

“Two beers on tap, dealers choice,” he said to the bartender.

“What are you, twelve? I need ID.”

Tim handed over the card.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” the guy said, “Sorry about that. They’ll be right up.”

Tim nodded and went to sit with Jason by the window.

“Good job,” Jason said.

“So, what was the purpose of this?”

“Men like to drink beer.”

“Oh my fucking _god_. I just realized.”

“What?”

“You’re talking out of your ass! You don’t know _shit_ about how men act!”

“I do! I’m a man!”

“Yeah, one who was raised by prostitutes and then Bruce and then assassins. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I don’t,” Jason mumbled, “I’m sorry. I just wanted to help.”

“No, I…I’m glad you want to help. I just, ah, I dunno. I don’t know what I’m doing. Like, I know I’m a guy and I know I pass most of the time, but sometimes I don’t and it irks me. So I guess…I guess we need someone who’s better at this masculinity bullshit then we are. Get, like. Lessons. On how to be a bro.”

“…what super masculine guys do we know?”

“Oh, _shit_.”

They sat there in silence.

“Not Dick,” they said in unison.

Off in his patrol car in Bludhaven, Dick sneezed violently.

“Bless you,” said the shoplifter in the back of his car.

“Thanks,” Dick replied, “Your good manners are a welcome change.”

“Listen, my mother may not have raised me to respect the law, but she _did_ raise me to mind my manners,” they replied, “Weird contradiction, right?”

“Not too weird. You’d fit in with my family.”

“You got a nice family?”

“None of them are particularly ‘nice,’ but I love all ten thousand of ‘em.”

“That sounds nice,” the kid said wistfully, “My parents kicked me out.”

“Oh, is that why you’re stealing?”

“Yes.”

“Huh,” Dick said, doing some mental gymnastics, “Ya know, I think I might have a solution for that.”

Back at the manor, Bruce sneezed. He had a cold.

* * *

 

“Wally,” Tim suggested.

“No, he’s not masculine.”

“Arthur.”

“He’s just a dick.”

“…fuck.”

“I suppose we should be glad that toxic masculinity is minimal in our friend groups.”

“Yeah, it just sucks at present.”

“Wait,” Jason said, “What if we, like, go to a trans group meeting? They gotta have some shit about this.”

“That’s a great idea,” Tim exclaimed, “Fuck yeah, let’s do that.”

“Okay, googling,” Jason said, whipping out his phone. A moment later, he whacked Tim on the arm.

“One at the gay center in ten. Let’s dash.”

They ran all the way to the LGBT+ center and just barely made it in.

“We’re here for the trans support group,” Jason announced.

“I’m trans,” Tim clarified, “He’s a hanger-on.”

“I’m your brother, fuck you!”

“Well, he’s welcome to join us,” the woman running the group said with a smile.

“Thanks!” Jason replied, “I’ll behave.”

“When do you _ever_?”

“I can be nice!”

“Yeah, nice is different from well-behaved.”

“I just said I would behave, I never said it would be _well_ -behaved. Important difference. Gotta leave some loopholes, Timmy. I learned that at law camp.”

“That was for three weeks when you were thirteen, Jason, stop pretending like that matters.”

“I’m offended,” Jason said as he sat down in one of the tiny plastic chairs, which groaned under his weight.

“So, we go around the room and introduce ourselves first, with name and pronouns.”

Everyone did so, finally reaching around to Jason.  

“So, I’m Jason, he/him, and I’m cis, just here to keep this one from chickening. And, like, learn shit.”

“Wow, eloquent.”

“Fuck off, Tim, I’m tired and gay.”

“Bitch, me too. You’re not special.”

“Shut up and tell the nice people your name and pronouns.”

“Fuck off. Uh, hi. I’m Tim. Uh, he/him?”

“Confidence,” Jason nagged.

“Yes. My pronouns are he/him. There, you happy?”

“I just want you to be confident in yourself! I don’t like the idea of my little brother wandering around feeling insecure about himself!”

“I wish my siblings were more like you,” said one of the trans girls.

“I’m your brother now,” Jason announced. Tim facepalmed.

“Why are you like this?” He grumbled.

“Listen, I was raised by a crowd of prostitutes. It’s given me strong maternal tendencies.”

“I hate you,” Tim grumbled, “Anyways, we’re here because I’ve been insecure about passing so Jason decided to give me masculinity lessons. Then we realized he’s not super masc. So I need help.”

“I might be able to help,” offered another trans guy, “I teach a class on it.”

“Great, that’s sorted,” Jason said cheerfully, “What a relief. Now, let’s see how many of y’alls problems can be dealt with via this checkbook I did not steal from Dad.”

“I can only allocate two mill from the budget,” Tim said as he checked his organization app.

“Only two?”

“Bruce took out ten mill for a donation last Tuesday.”

“Oh, fair enough.”

“Anyways, you get two mill. Go ham.”

“Hell yeah, bro. Who wants surgery?”

Several hands shot in the air.

“Great! Timmy, why don’t you pull out the ol’ bank card and slap these lovely ladies, gents, and distinguished folks of the nonbinary variety up with some cash.”

“I’ll need everyone’s info,” Tim replied.

* * *

 

They made their way back to the Manor on the subway that afternoon, walking all the way back to the Manor from the closest station.

When they walked in the dining room, there was a teenager sitting there.

This was not a particularly unusual sight in the manor, as there were a lot of teenagers living there. However, this was one that none of them had ever seen before.

“Uh, hi,” Jason said, “Did…did Bruce adopt you while we were out?”

“What? Uh, not sure? Officer Grayson arrested me for shoplifting and then found out my parents kicked me out and brought me here?”

“Oh. Congrats, you’re about to be adopted,” Tim replied, sitting in one of the chairs, “I’m Tim. This is Jason. Dick’s probably off talking to Bruce.”

“No, he’s not,” Bruce grumbled as he entered the room, “He talked to me earlier. Jason, Tim. You’re not dead. And, hello. You must be Toast.”

“Yeah, uh, that’s me. I am Toast.”

“You, uh. Have been kicked out by your parents?”

“Yeah, they didn’t like me being non-binary. Or the name Toast. Which is still better than my birth name,” they babbled.

“Probably still better than Geraldine,” Tim grumbled.

“Your deadname was Geraldine?” Jason cried.

“No, it’s what Jack wanted to name me. My deadname was _worse_.”  

“What could be worse than Geraldine? Don’t tell me, I don’t want to lose all faith in humanity.”

“It was…” Tim whispered into Jason’s ear.

“No!” Jason cried, “You must be lying.”

“I would never lie about that.”

“No, no, no, no, no,” Jason moaned as he collapsed against the table.

“Tim,” Bruce said, exhausted, “Did you just weaponize your deadname?”

Tim shrugged.

“What else am I supposed to use that bitch for?”

“No,” Jason whispered.

Bruce sighed again.

“Just don’t tell Damian, okay? He’ll go knock down every sign dedicated to your parents in this town and that will open up legal issues.”

“’Kay. Anyways, Toast, what are your pronouns? Mine are he/him.”

“Oh, uh. They/them?”

“Confidence,” Jason mumbled.

“They/them,” Toast said with more force.

“Good,” Jason replied.

“What is your gender, if you don’t mind me asking?” Bruce inquired.

“I’m genderfluid.”

“Oh, so is Damian.”

“D-Damian?”

“My youngest,” Bruce said with pride, “They’re in their art studio right now.”

“I am not,” Damian said, “I am here.”

“Ah, here’s Damian!”

“Yes. I am Damian.”

“We all failed social skills 101,” Jason muttered.

“I’m Toast,” they said.

“Interesting,” Damian replied, “In an aside, Father, I have lit your ugly rose couch on fire.”

“…why?”

“...Art project.”

“Oh, that’s alright, then. At any rate, Toast, would you like to be adopted?”

“Uh, hell yeah. Are you, like, sure about this?”

“Yes.”

“Sick. Let’s do it.”

“Excellent,” Bruce replied, “Now. Tim. Conner called the house and said to inform you he’d be coming over in a bit.”

“Oh, chill. What about?”

“He needs your advice about something to do with Kryptonite, apparently.”

“What a minute,” Toast said, “Are you actually Batman?”

Bruce froze.

“Maybe?”

“Oh my god. Can I be a vigilante? I want to be a vigilante. Can I see the suit? Please let me see the suit.”

Bruce sighed.

“You can see the suit,” he grumbled, “Follow me.”

The two of them left the room, Toast bouncing alongside Bruce.

“So, I guess we have another sibling,” Tim said.

“Huh,” Damian said, “Cool.”

“They’re also genderfluid.”

“Interesting.”

“You don’t care, do you?”

“I am more concerned by the fact that Father believed my lie about the art project. He must be more ill than we thought.”

“Nah, he thinks that couch is ugly, too,” Tim said, “He admitted it when we were imprisoned on an alien planet.”

“I’m broken as a human being,” Jason murmured.

“Oh, hush,” Tim said, whacking him gently.

“Hey, guys,” Dick burst in, “Where’s Toast?”

“They found out Bruce was Batman and wanted to see the suit,” Tim replied.

“Oh, cool! What’s wrong with Jason?”

“I told him my deadname.”

“If ever there was a reason to write someone up on child abuse charges,” Dick muttered.

“I do not want to know what it is,” Damian announced, “Partially because it does not matter, and partly because Todd looks remarkably traumatized.”

“I have no faith left, Damian. I…I am a shell of a man,” Jason replied.

“You think you have it bad? Bitch, that was my name,” Tim said, “Hell, some people try to say that it’s still my name.”

Jason’s head shot up.

“Little brother,” he growled, “Do you mean to say that you’ve been dealing with transphobes and you didn’t say anything to me about it?”

Tim winced.

“Maybe?”

“Tell the truth, Tim,” Dick snapped.

“Yes.”

“Names,” Jason snarled, “Give me the fucker’s names.”

“I don’t wanna,” Tim mumbled.

“Too bad. Names.”

“Okay,” Tim said, “Fine. I hate you all.”

There was no bite to his words.

* * *

 

Duke had had, simply put, a very long day. He had gone to class, he hadn’t slept well the night before, and he’d returned to the Manor to see Jason loading his revolver.

“Why?” He asked.

“Transphobes goin’ after Timmy.”

“Son of a bitch. Traumatize them for us.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I will. By the by, Bruce adopted a new kid. Toast. They’re genderfluid.”

“How’d he get this one?”

“Dick brought ‘em in.”

“Great. Now he’s started, too. At this rate, the Manor’ll be full up before I graduate.”

“No shit, man. How is school?”

Duke shrugged.

“Same ol’, same ol’. Never changes.”

“I’d offer to go for you, but that wouldn’t work for a variety of reasons.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Duke drawled, gesturing at the everything about Jason.

“I feel mildly offended.”

“Good. Stay that way, it’ll do your ego wonders.”

“Hey!”

Duke laughed as he ran up the stairs, leaving Jason behind.

He ran into the lost Toast as he headed to the second floor of the library.

“Oh, hey. Toast, right? I’m Duke,” he said, extending his hand. They took it, looking a little confused.

“Uh, hi. I’m, uh. Lost.”

“Yeah, that happens. I got lost a fuck ton of times when I first moved in here.”

“How many bedrooms are there?”

“Oh, this is the guest floor. I think it’s twenty-five down here, nineteen upstairs on the family floor.”

“Oh my god,” Toast murmured.

“I know, right?”

“That’s…that’s insane.”

“Oh, it is. Just wait until after dinner. You get to pick your room and then go through the attic to pick out furniture.”

“Just…pick it?”

“Yeah, and if you can’t find anything you like Bruce’ll buy it. He’s a whack ass dude.”

“Sounds like he is.”

“Here’s a helpful bit of advice: no one here is sane. Get used to it.”

“What about that Alfred guy? He seems nice.”

“Oh, Alfred’s fucking phenomenal. Sane isn’t a word I’d use, though.”

“O-oh.”

“Don’t worry. No one’s a jerk. We take care of our own.”

“That…that’s nice.”

“Yeah,” Duke said with a smile, “Yeah, it’s pretty great.”

* * *

 

Dinner that night was to Alfred’s usual impeccable standards, and everyone was conveniently ignoring the bloodstains on Jason’s shirt.

“I can’t believe you went after them,” Tim muttered.

“Transphobes aren’t allowed near my siblings. Damian, Toast, that goes for you two as well. I will kill any transphobes. I will gladly do that.”

“O-oh. Okay.”

“I can kill them myself, Todd.”

“Damian, what have I told you about killing people?” Bruce said, only mildly exasperated.

“To not get caught?”

“That’s the spirit.”

“What a wild family,” Toast murmured, awestruck.

“You haven’t seen us play D&D yet,” Tim informed them.

“I still can’t believe I had to hear one of my baby brothers say ‘I roll to seduce the dead guy,’” Dick moaned.

“In my defense,” Duke said, “I thought it would be funny.”

“Man, that was a horny campaign,” Jason mused, “I think Timmy here fucked, like, seven enemies.”

“Eight,” Tim replied smugly.

“That’s not an accomplishment,” Dick wailed.

“You only say that because you’re a coward.”

“No, _Tim_ , I say that as your DM!”

“You should have prepared for me seducing them. I love that plan.”

“You do,” Jason mused, “I don’t think I’ve gone on a single campaign with you where you didn’t try to fuck the monster.”

“It’s a good strategy!” Tim protested.

“I used to think Dick was the family slut,” Duke declared philosophically, “Then I played D&D with Tim.”

“Hey, I’m only a slut in spirit. I have too much dysphoria to be a _real_ slut.”

“Oh, mood,” Toast replied.

“So, Toast, what kinda trauma you got? We got all kinds a trauma. Name a trauma, we have it,” Jason said, “I’ll start out the Wayne family sharing circle tonight. I died. That is all.”

“Don’t you also have other kinds of trauma?” Tim asked.

“Of course. But that’s more of a third chapter tale.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Uh. My parents sucked?” Toast offered.

Jason nodded.

“Yes, many of us can relate. Tim, your input on the bad parents front?”

“I have had one good parent. He’s sitting at the head of the table.”

“Thank you, son,” Bruce replied with a smile.

“I was talking about Alfred, you bitch.”

“Master Tim, do not tease your father like that. You will break him.”

“Sorry, Bruce.”

Bruce sighed.

“I should expect this,” he muttered, “All of my children are mean.”

“I’m offended!” Dick wailed.

“Dick, you told the Justice League my birthday. You don’t get to talk.”

“I was trying to be nice! I wanted you to celebrate your birthday with your friends.”

“I don’t have friends,” Bruce said, “I have allies.”

“Oh my god,” Duke groaned, “Stop being such an edge lord. _Please_.”  

“He cannot. He is darkness. He is the night. He is…Batman,” Alfred said.

The room went silent.

“Oh my god,” Jason uttered, “Alf, don’t scalp him like that.”

“I told you to quite bring that up,” Bruce ground out.

“I will never let you forget your embarrassing moments, Master Bruce. It keeps you humble.”

“It keeps me depressed.”

“They’re called anti-depressants, Bruce,” Tim snarked, “Give ‘em a try sometime.”

Bruce shifted in his seat.

“I’m allergic,” he mumbled.

“What was that?” Dick asked.

“I’m allergic to anti-depressants.”

His kids stared at him. Jason giggled. Alfred glared at him and Jason raised his hands in surrender.

“Sorry, I just found it funny because I’ve never heard of that before and I thought ‘oh, of course the guy allergic to antidepressants is Bruce’ cuz that, like, makes mad sense.”

“I feel moderately offended,” Bruce muttered.

“Nah, it’s just that you’re kinda edgy.”

“Kind of?” Tim said, “Bruce is edgier than a goddamn rhombicosidodecahedron.”

“A what now?”

“It’s an Archimedean solid with 120 edges,” Dick chirped.

Everyone stared at him.

“What? I know you guys love to paint me as the family bimbo, but I was a Mathletics champion. I speak six languages besides English and I’m conversational in four others. And I got into one of the best colleges in the country. I’m not _stupid_.”

“That’s a ridiculous number of languages,” Damian said incredulously, “Which ones?”

“Fluent in French, Spanish, Russian, Mandarin, Cantonese, and Tamaran. Conversational in ASL, Italian, Farsi, and Kikuyu.”

“I’m impressed,” Toast said, “Is anyone else impressed?”

The Bats all nodded, except for Bruce.

“I am not impressed,” he said.

Dick’s grin fell.

“I’m proud,” Bruce continued.

The grin slammed back into place, brighter than before.

“Aww, B,” Dick cooed.

“I am proud of all of my children.”

“Even me?” Jason asked.

“Of course.”

“Wow,” Jason mused, “Wild.”

“I like you guys,” Toast said, “You’re crazy as hell.”

“Aww, thanks, Toast,” Dick replied as the Bats all grinned at Toast, “We like you, too.”

* * *

 

Later that night, Bruce sat down in a “guest room” tucked away in the back corner of the second floor. Once upon a time, it had been his parent’s lounge, where they sat when they wanted to remain undisturbed. He could remember countless- and yet, too few- afternoons spent sitting with them, dozing with his head in his mother’s lap as his father stroked his hair. This room, this dusty old room, was the place he felt closest to them. Alfred rarely ever went in, leaving it instead as Bruce’s secret sanctuary.

Tonight, Bruce was there for a familiar routine. He sat on the couch and stared down at his hands.

“So, uh. Hi. I did it again. Adopting a kid, I mean. Their name’s, uh, Toast. Dick brought them to me. They’d been kicked out by their parents and were living on the streets. I…I had to. I just…there was no other option, in my mind.

“I…I guess I’ll update you on everybody. Damian torched that god-awful couch Dad’s aunt gave you guys. They think they’ve slipped it past me, but I saw through that little ruse. I’m just…I’m so proud of them. They've come so far from the small, terrified little kid they were when we first met and I just…they were so scared, Mom, Dad. They were terrified of messing up and I just…I love that I’ve made them feel safe enough to break rules and lie to me without fear.

“And Dick…I’m so proud of him, too. That he just…he just took this kid in without a second thought. He just leaped into action and he…he’s so caring and open that…I just, fuck, I’m so proud of him. He’s grown into such a fantastic person that I…I’m glad I didn’t fuck him up.

“Jason…he’s the same, sweet little kid under all that bluster. Took two million out of our fortune today to donate to charity, then went out tonight to go hunt down some people who’ve been giving Tim shit. He loves acting like he’s so removed from everything, but watching him with the other kids, he just…he lights up. And he’s…he’s so good with them. And it kills me when the JL starts talking behind my back about how out of control he is because he’s not, he’s my son and he knows…he knows what he’s doing. And I may not like it, or approve of it, but…I have to trust him. Because I haven’t trusted him, and it’s about…it’s about time I start.

“And Tim…he’s…we’re all going to be working for him, someday, with how smart he is. And he’s not just smart, he’s a sweet, caring kid, and he just…it kills me, sometimes, how little he believes in himself. Because I…I don’t know what would have happened to me if he hadn’t showed up when…after Jason. He just…fuck, he just shoved his way into my life and took over. It scares me, sometimes, how good he is. Both in the field and out of it. And it…it hurts, seeing how easily he’ll throw himself into the field for people. Just…I don’t like seeing my kids hurt. But he’s been happier, lately. And I’m…I’m so glad.

“Duke…he’s a good kid, too. Shit, I don’t have any bad kids. But Duke, he’s damn clever and he’s got common sense, too. I would have never been able to have him as my Robin, though. All the Robins are, uh. Lacking in the latter category. But he’s…he’s a smart kid and a great leader. I’m proud of him.

“Cass, well, she’s still in Hong Kong. But we talk- well, we Skype- pretty often. She’s doing well. I…she’s much happier, nowadays. I’m proud of her, too. For conquering her past and improving herself. She’s such an amazing young woman and I…it brings me such joy to see it.

“And though he’s not one of my kids, obviously, Alfred’s doing well. He’s, uh. He’s good. Still likes to lecture me, which is rude. I’m an adult. Also, he’s become entirely too sarcastic for me to bear. I am dying. Help.

“And I’m…I’m doing alright. I just…it’s hard, sometimes. To get out of bed, to find the energy to…do things. I…the kids have helped, they definitely have, but it’s still…hard. And I…it’s hard.”

The door creaked open and his head shot up. His kids were standing there, looking a bit sheepish.

“Sorry, we heard you talking about us,” Dick said, “I…I think you need a hug, Dad.”

All of the kids nodded their heads.

Bruce smiled sadly at them. Immediately, he was mobbed.

“Hey, Jason, quit elbowing me,” Tim whined.

“Shut up, Tim. Damian, your hidden knife is stabbing me.”

“Bite me, Todd.”

“Guys, arrange yourselves better,” Dick scolded as he wrapped himself around Bruce.

“Fuck off, Dick,” chorused several siblings.

Bruce sighed, watching with bemusement and exasperation as his children bickered for a few minutes before finally settling down. A few minutes later, Alfred made his way into the room and sat on the edge of the couch.

Bruce smiled and closed his eyes. The painted faces of Martha and Thomas Wayne smiled back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this because I've received such a lovely response from you all about this fic. I hope you enjoyed. :)
> 
> A few notes: 
> 
> The D&D game they're referencing is based on an actual game I played with some friends. Duke rolling to seduce a dead body was an actual thing one of them did (done entirely to fuck with the DM, as was Duke's intention).
> 
> Jason is a little confused but he got the spirit. 
> 
> Toast is named in memory of my favorite Hawaii Five-0 character, Toast. Toast's intentions for naming themself Toast were the same as mine. 
> 
> Bruce's allergy is based on some research I did for a psych paper a few years back. When I saw it, I thought it would be an interesting idea to explore with his character in particular. Of course, I can't leave him in pain for too long or Cherry might kill me. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my [Tumblr](http://asexual-queen-of-the-universe.tumblr.com). More batfam fics coming soon.


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